


Like the First Time

by AllusionToReality



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Songfic, Swearing, awkward kisses, he denies it but he is one, phils an alcoholic, plus the boy gets around, suggestive stuff, the asexual writes intimacy, they get drunk and Chris gets protective, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 19:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7186838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllusionToReality/pseuds/AllusionToReality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I remember when we<br/>Swapped names and I thought maybe<br/>You'd stay and try to out-drink me<br/>Your friends all hated it...</p>
<p>or the one where Phil probably has a drinking problem and sleeps around with the whole bar and Dan's the one who might actually stick around for breakfast</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like the First Time

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally posted!!  
> This was written on a road trip to Kentucky while I was listening to music. It's mostly inspired by "Cocoon" by Catfish and the Bottlemen with a little "I'm a Mess" by Ed Sheeran sprinkled in. I'd recommend listening to both songs either before or while reading this. 
> 
> I do not own either of these songs or their lyrics and used them purely as inspiration for this sloppy poetic thing.

Phil and his friends have different ideas about what an “alcohol problem” is. To Phil, going to a pub or bar every night for a drink, more often without mates, was something every recent college graduate did. Late nights and impending deadlines seemed less daunting by the 3rd or 4th drink.

“You’ve got a problem, mate,” PJ calls from their couch.

Phil sucks on his teeth for a moment, opting to act like he didn’t hear his roommate and closing the door hard enough to emphasise the ‘click’ of Phil’s rebelliance. He let the familiarity of the cold night air sink into his skin and settle in his blood, soon to be replaced by fiery liquor of whatever he chose for the night.

He didn’t consider himself an alcoholic, when he thought alcoholic he thought about a drunk middle-aged man stumbling into the liquor store at 11am. He wasn’t there-yet. He only drank at night, in places dark enough no one knew who he was and reality couldn’t get past the bouncer.

Phil walked in through the wooden red doors, flashing his ID, pointlessly because the bouncer recognized him. They’d hooked up once a couple months ago, when Phil started visiting the bar regularly without his mates. They’d both agreed it was fine, but a one time thing. The bouncer’s name was Sam. That’s all Phil knew about him.

He took a seat at the bar, the counter sticky from the numerous cold glasses and humid atmosphere that engulfed the building. The bartender was relatively new, but had been working there long enough to set a glass of water in front of Phil before he even ordered. She seemed caring enough, and he figured they’d probably hook up sometime too. He’d fallen into a routine of sorts, a game, he considered it, to make it seem less pathetic. Whenever a new person started working at this bar, he’d see how long it would take him to sleep with them. His record was two days. It helped he was a regular. It helped he always knew just what to do to win over over the newbie. It helped he was so good at cutting ties that he could come back to this bar and see every checkmark, every notch in his head board, and start the game again.

It didn’t help though that the alcohol made him needy. With every drink and person he brought home he hoped to subside the loneliness, this craving for human contact that sloshed over like a full glass of ale, poured past the standard by someone too careless to notice until it was too late and there was ale on the counter and on the customer and oh god-

A loud laugh interrupted his thoughts. He gave the bartender is order curtly, then turned towards the voice. Phil had grown accustom to the noise in the bar, but something about this group stood out. It was a small group of young people, probably uni students, Phil guessed. There were three boys and two girls, and they all seemed to be laughing at something the girl with blonde hair said. There was one boy, a tall brunette with sparkling eyes and black skinny jeans, that Phil felt the most drawn to. He was tipsy, on alcohol or life, Phil couldn’t tell. There was a strange air about him; he seemed to be pushing down all ailments in order to have a good time out with his… friends? Classmates? Phil was intoxicated and he hadn’t had a sip of alcohol yet.

He tore himself away from the man and the group, waving the bartender over. He hadn’t considered that telling her he was buying the man across the room a drink would be a forfeit to their game, but he’d realize it later, when it didn’t matter to him anymore.

“I’ll buy him a drink, whatever he orders.”

 The phrase was awkward and unfamiliar on his tongue. He’d never bought a drink for someone else, much less a boy with a beautiful smile. The bartender smirked, and Phil knew he would be the employee gossip for a while. Phil Lester, a mystical being among the night workers, had noticed someone on his side of the counter. She wrote up a tab and walked over to the group. Phil pretended to be watching the TV, keeping the table in the corner of his eye.

 “The man trying too hard to not look over here offered to buy you somethin’,” Phil heard the bartender say, and he flushed red before pretending to be occupied with his drink.

The group laughed, except the man, Phil noticed. _“Oh god, I fucked up,”_ Phil thought, anxiety bubbling in his stomach. The bartender walked back to the bar and refilled his drink. 

“He ordered a Lemon Drop, isn’t that cute?” She slid the bill towards him, feeling rather proud to be the messenger between the two.

“I’m going to make this and take it to him, but you’re on your own after that,” she remarked, tapping his glass with her fingernails. He mumbled an “okay” like an ornery child with his mother.

Phil kept his back turned to the group on purpose, letting himself tune into their conversation. He didn’t catch much, just wordless clouds floating past his ears. He heard them laugh, but only once did the man join them. There was a “go on” from an unknown person, and then the group was silent, a certain air of anticipation becoming their dialogue.

Phil, who had been shredding a napkin this whole time, stopped when he saw someone put an empty shot glass on the bar next to him. The person sat down and timidly gestured for the bartender to come over.

“Another for both of us… please,” he added at the end, unsure of himself. Keeping his head down, Phil saw the person messing with their hands, probably just as nervous as he. He’d seen enough romance cliches to know that **he** had just ordered Phil a drink. There was a silence between them until the man spoke up.

“I really hope you’re not a serial killer.”

Behind them a chorus of groans and protests erupted, causing Phil to smile faintly and then giggle. He looked up and holy shit this guy was more gorgeous up close. He smiled brightly and held out his hand.

“I’m Dan, and those guys,” he pointed to the table behind them, “want to thank you for buying me a drink.”

Phil looked over to the table and the group pretended to be having an animated conversation. He looked back to the man and timidly shook his hand. 

“I’m Phil, do you ask every guy if they’re a serial killer?”

 

It started like that, and ended with a drunk Dan being dragged away by his friends, smiling and giggling like an idiot. They had talked for a while, continuing to buy drinks for each other until it had become a competition. Phil had such a high tolerance rate though; Dan became drunk far faster than Phil. His friends, who had stayed long past their original plan, found an opportunity to leave. Chris, one of Dan's friends that Dan had told Phil about, came up and grasped Dan’s shoulders, encouraging him to get up and leave the bar. Dan protested, reaching out and grasping Phil’s hand.

Phil wasn’t flat out drunk, just tipsy, so he was fully aware of Dan’s gesture. He looked at Christ first, who was obviously tired and irritated. Chris raised an expectant eyebrow at Phil, and Phil realized he’d somewhat overstayed his welcome. He simply kissed Dan’s hand, causing the man to loosen his grip in surprise.

“Here,” Phil reached over the counter and took a marker from the ledge. He took Dan’s arm and wrote his phone number down, fanning his hand to help it dry faster. Dan stared at his arm, his hazy mind trying to work out what was going on.

“Take care of him, okay?” Phil asked Chris, who leered at him.

“I know.” 

 

And then Dan was whisked away, sloppily, and Phil felt the unpleasantly familiar atmosphere sneak back in. He decided that he’d been at the bar long enough and gathered up his things, tipping the bartender a helpful amount before heading home. He took notice of the stars on his way back. There was a thin layer of fog resting up there with them, like a blanket to the stars similar to the one on Phil’s thoughts.

Pj was surprised he’d come home early and not blackout drunk. Phil told him to shut up with a grin on his face.

The next morning he woke up with a slight headache and a bad taste in his mouth. After taking an Advil, Phil went to check his phone, seeing he had three new messages from a new number.

 

**Dan** : Be honest, how much did I drink?

         I feel like I was hit by a freight train and Chris keeps laughing at me

         I really hope you gave me the right # or I’m admitting how drunk I got to a stranger

 

Phil laughed out loud and saved Dan’s number in his phone under ‘Dan Lemon Drop’. He realized that despite how much they talked last night, he still didn’t know a lot about Dan. He was perplexed by the mystery that surrounded this man, more so by his continued interest in him. If he was being honest with himself, Phil knew his lifestyle was sad. Going out and getting wasted almost every night, coming home with someone and sending them out of his house first thing in the morning. He’d never kept anyone around for breakfast, they usually never met PJ, and he only kept their numbers in his phone in case the bar didn’t hire anyone new. This concept of meeting someone, of texting them good morning and asking them on a real date, was alien to Phil.  And somehow, he managed to send those texts.

 

**Phil** : Good morning :)

         I’m glad you got home safe, Chris promised he’d take care of you for me

         So, since we got off on a weird foot, I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner

         sometime? Maybe tonight?

 

He waited an hour before getting a response. 

 

**Dan** : Ok 

…

Phil had never had trouble dressing himself in the past. That is, until he was trying to get dressed for a date with a really cute boy. He tore his room apart, his closet taking up the floor. PJ found it hilarious, and Phil told him to kindly fuck off, please. After entertaining himself with Phil’s pain, PJ actually became helpful. He made sure Phil felt confident in his decision, giving advice on being a gentlemen, which Phil pretended to roll his eyes at. Truthfully, a nervous bulb had rooted itself in his stomach and with every second closer to the date, it flourished. At6pm, Phil made sure he had his wallet and keys, and with a teasing tearful goodbye from PJ, he headed towards the restaurant.

Phil had been the one to suggest a real restaurant. It was a sit-down family place, so it wasn’t too fancy. It was nicer than a bar, Phil figured. He got there first, a stew of scenarios congealing in his head. What if Dan decided not to come? Had he mixed up the time? Phil pulled on the sleeves of his sweater, trying to rid of the perspiration on his palms. He’d been seated for only two minutes when Dan joined him, shyly smiling. Phil was hit with the same feeling as he had last night; he wanted to reach out and see if he could touch the light Dan seemed to be giving off. He got up and pulled Dan’s chair out for him and Dan blushed at his courtesy. They were silent for a minute, noses buried in their menus, seeing who would speak first.

The small talk about the menu died down when the waiter came by with a bottle of wine. He tried his best to upsell, but they both refused, looking at each other and smiling at their inside joke. Phil was floored, they had something that was theirs. When the waiter left with promise to return to take their order, Dan took his face out from behind the menu and snorted, laughing, loud and unrestrained. Phil was taken back and then started to laugh too. They laughed until they received looks from nearby tables. Dan took a moment to breathe and shook his head, a small tear glistening on his eyelid. 

“So, was I really that drunk?”

“Yeah…” Phil fidgeted, turning the edge of the tablecloth over in his fingers.

“What’s wrong?”

“Did,” he started hesitantly, “Chris say anything about me?”

Dan thought for a second. “Nothing that mattered.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, obviously my friends were there when I got mad drunk, they just grumbled about staying at the bar for two hours.”

  
Phil looked away from Dan and scrunched his nose. He didn’t want to seem rude, but he had really hoped this date was going to go well. He was no expert on dates, but bringing up Chris probably hadn’t been the best idea. Chris had probably seen Pil at the bar a lot and gotten protective of Dan. Here he was, a broken record, destined to stay on the same song because he’d fucked up every chance he got. And Dan, he wanted Dan more than anything else, and they’d only known each other for less than a day but Phil could tell something was different about Dan, just from the way he made him feel. Dan made him feel.

“Hey,” Dan had reached across the table and took his hand like he had last night, but now it was comforting and not desperate.

“Don’t worry about what my friends think. This is between us, they don’t need to be a part of this.”

Phil wanted to ask _“What is_ this _?”_ but before he could formulate words, the waiter came back. As they ordered, Phil noticed Dan kept one hand on his. It was comforting, even if Dan hadn’t meant to.

They talked all through dinner, sticking to light topics. They told childhood stories, personal fails, and when Phil found himself getting comfortable around Dan, the restaurant kicked them out to clear the table. Phil let Dan drag him to a park near his house, and they stayed out to watch the stars. Sometime, Dan slipped his hand into Phil’s, and all Phil could think about was the last time he held hands was in year 10, which was also the last time he went on a date. Maybe this could be a new chapter, or a new book, or maybe he could go back to the book he put down in year 10 and burn the one with the same story on every page.

Dan was staring at Phil and smiled lightly. “You’re thinking pretty loud.”

“Sorry, I just haven’t done…” he brushed his thumb over Dan’s, almost shivering at the intimacy.

“...this in a while.”

Dan looked at their hands and didn’t say anything, whether he understood or not. He walked Dan back to his flat and they said goodnight with a semi-awkward hug. On his way home, Phil passed the bar and saw a “Hiring” sign on the door. He smiled to himself as he walked past, returning home. PJ tried to bombard him with questions, but he only smiled at his roommate and went to his room.

…

The next few months were a collage of Dan. He gave himself to him, and every time Dan took care of him. Phil stopped going to the bar completely after meeting Dan. The loneliness was subsiding; the ravishing desire that was ebbing away at him was vanquished with every forehead kiss. They were both shy, Phil adjusting to commitment and Dan waiting on a sign from Phil. They were floating in between dimensions, not quite a couple, but too far in to be a fling.

It was after a dinner date where Dan had started talking about something (Phil can’t remember if it was music, or dogs, or maybe art) and he just became so passionate about it. Phil watched his eyes light up and he became so animated. Phil didn’t know he’d fallen before it was too late. His chest was so compressed he couldn’t breathe and his cheeks hurt from smiling because the man in front of him was probably talking about a fucking meme and he still lit up the room, eliminating any darkness cowering in the corners. He seemed too perfect to be real but he was, and he was sitting 3ft away from Phil and it hit him so fast how lucky he was to love someone like Dan.

They were walking aimlessly when Phil invited Dan over, an alarm going off in his head that he was going to start the cycle again, they were going to spend the night together and then Phil was going to send him away in the morning, another name crossed off of a list. Phil pushed these thoughts down, opening the door to his flat and inviting his date in. Dan looked around and smiled softly. They sat on the couch, tea Phil had made them in hand, talking quietly so they wouldn’t  wake PJ. When Phil mentioned his roommate, Dan seemed excited to meet him. Phil smirked at his subconscious.

They found themselves leaning on each other around 2am, Dan rubbing soft patterns into Phil’s back and Phil sleepily intertwining their hands and pressing their fingertips together. He adjusted so he could bury his face into Dan’s shoulder. He whispered into his skin, feeling his skin shudder.

“What are you saying?”

Phil ignored the pounding ache in his chest and leaned into Dan’s ear, cupping his hand like he had a secret. “I love you.”

Dan’s breathing hitched but he didn’t say anything. He looked down at his and Phil’s hand in between their legs on the couch. He leaned into Phil’s ear, copying him. “I love you too.”

They looked at each other for a moment before he leaned forward and hovered, inches away from the other’s face, waiting, before connecting their lips for a few seconds. Phil was breathless, everything he had tried to avoid thrown to the wind as he leant forward to meet Dan’s lips again, trying to convey everything without words. He wanted to tell Dan everything: the bar, his game, how Dan had changed all of that. He wanted to tell the other man everything he’d done, everything before he had changed Phil’s life. As he wrapped around his arms around Dan’s neck and brought them closer together, he hoped he could say everything and more.

They were holding each other, heads resting on shoulders, neither of them entirely sure what came next. They managed to look at each other shyly, then Phil untangled himself and got off the couch. He led Dan back to his bedroom, reminding himself that this would be different, he could never be the same after Dan. He softly closed the door behind him, desperately trying not to wake PJ. He took a deep breath, trying to shut up his conscience, and turned to look at Dan again. He had his back turned to Phil, turning to look at him while slowly taking off his shirt and tossing it to the floor.

He walked over to where Phil was leaning against the door and kissed him again, a bit more forceful. He slid his hand under Phil’s shirt and up his chest. Phil melted into the wall, grabbing at the bottom of his shirt to help slide it off as fast as he could. He got stuck a little, but they laughed at his clumsiness together. The shirt eventually fell to the floor and Phil never felt more vulnerable. He was exposed, but all he wanted to do was explore Dan. He wanted to know his skin like reading a map, finding every ridge and valley until he had him painted like a landscape in his mind, and judging by Dan’s expression, he had the same idea. Phil placed his hands on Dan’s chest and couldn’t help but wish time would slow to a stop so he could live in this moment forever.

...

 When Phil woke up, he was pressed against someone warm. A small moment of panic swept through him, and he thought he’d gotten drunk again. Then the figure stirred and sighed, and he remembered. He immediately wrapped himself around Dan, hugging the other man to his chest like a child trying to prevent a bird from flying away. He nestled his face into the back of Dan’s neck, causing the other to squirm and giggle.

“Phillll,” Dan whined sleepily, curling in to be closer to him. He sighed peacefully.

There was a knock on the door followed by a soft “Phil?”

Phil let go of Dan and sat up, pulling back the covers so he could get dressed. “Just a minute,” he said softly.

After, mostly, dressing himself, he opened the door to find PJ with a worried look.

“You okay, mate?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Phil’s bed creaked and PJ’s eyebrow shot up. Phil slipped out of his room, closing the door behind him.

“He’s still here?”

Phil felt a little hurt but he knew PJ was right. “Yeah, yeah he is.”

PJ smiled and took a step back. “Do you think he’d like waffles?”

Phil felt like he was going to cry, he reached out and gave PJ a hug, laughing softly.

“Yeah, would you be there too?”

“Of course.”

 

PJ let go of Phil and pretended to tip a hat towards him before going to the kitchen. Phil slipped back into his bedroom and softly closed the door in case Dan was still sleeping. He was surprised to see Dan already up and pulling on his jeans.

“I should probably get going, I’m here kinda late, aren’t I?” Dan laughed but it was forced and Phil winced.

Walking over to his bed, Phil sat beside him and reached out to set a hand against Dan’s cheek. He looked up from the floor and Phil leaned forward and kissed him. He kissed him like it was the night before and they were still shy and Dan was the only person that mattered to him.

“I think you should stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you can't tell, I can't write kissing or smut so you got weird descriptions of hugs and shirts. So many shirts. 
> 
> Ever since listening to this song, I couldn't get this picture of D&P cuddling out of my head so poof there's this.


End file.
